Page 11 of Her Passionate Duke

“Yes, perhaps – but you must remember that we didn’t build this house. We bought it. I cannot see that we are responsible for the failings of the architect, so many years ago. But… what are we to do now?”

Lord Theodore stood thinking for a moment.

“When it comes to mice, there are two remedies which surpass all others. On the one hand, you can place a little tartar emetic down on the floor among some suitable food and wait for them to come and feast. Once having eaten it, they’ll sicken and die. Then it’s just a matter of scooping them up and tossing them out.”

“What’s the second?”

“A large cat,” he replied, raising his bag, and beginning to move toward the door. “And I have just the one. His name is Chester and he’s a half-feral stable cat. I brought him up by hand to hunt all types of vermin. Just leave him alone in your bedroom for ten minutes and — goodbye mice!”

“Oh, but you can’t!” Linnet cried in horror. “Cats make me sneeze and cry and itch all over, just by being in the same room. I wouldn’t be able to leave the house for a week, or more.”

“Then I suggest you go somewhere else for the day,” said Lord Theodore as they walked down the stairs together. I’ll bring him here around midday. I look forward to seeing the glint in his eyes, the flexing of his claws, the athletic pounce! There’s really nothing like a cat for murdering things you want to be rid of.”

And with a final ominous laugh and a tip of his hat he left the house, leaving Linnet alone on the stairs, except for the footman, who seemed to be struggling to maintain his impassive expression. Linnet couldn’t blame him – there were times when Lord Theodore left her torn between laughter and tears.

She felt rather alarmingly queasy. Now, as well as the charity dinner and the speech, she had something else to worry about.

***

True to his word, Lord Theodore arrived the next day, bearing a remarkably large wicker basket, with a woven mesh door on one end, which was firmly tied shut. From within it, there came a grumpy sounding ‘mrrowl’ noise, and Linnet flinched away from it, her face paling. Lord Theodore attempted to approach her, to greet her, and she shook her head no, then fled from the parlour into the hallway, calling for Emily.

“Emily, it’s time for us to leave. I will wait on the steps until the carriage comes around. Hopefully, I haven’t been close enough to that cat for the slightest bit of itching to happen.”

Emily scurried off to get the carriage brought around, and Linnet was most grateful that she’d asked for the horses to be hitched up to it some time ago, to facilitate her rapid escape. Out on the front steps, the sun was pleasant, and she turned her thoughts to her plans for the day, and very pointedly away from the fact that, at that very moment, Lord Theodore was putting a cat… into her bedroom….

She shuddered, telling herself not to think of it. Which of course meant that it filled her mind and she could think of nothing else. Equally, because she so desperately hoped to avoid itching, and other nasty responses, her head began to itch immediately, and her arm, and her toes… Valiantly, she fought the urge to scratch.

At last, the carriage came around the corner from the mews, bearing Emily, and Linnet rushed down the steps, her pelisse, bonnet, and reticule in hand, desperate to be on her way.

When they reached Lady Caroline’s- which was the only place she had been able to think of to go to, to escape the cat, Linnet found Lady Caroline crying on the couch in the parlour. Linnet sat beside her and waited while she took a few minutes to regain her composure, and speak.

“I’m not sure what’s wrong with me lately.” Lady Caroline dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief. “I shouldn’t feel this strongly about a man I’ve only just met. If I could not feel this way, I would gladly do it!”

“Monsieur Fournier? You talked to him for maybe an hour at the dinner, and then again at the musical soiree,” said Linnet. “That hardly seems like enough time to develop an intense attachment.”

Lady Caroline rose agitatedly, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers, and strode over to the fireplace. It was a chilly morning and the house was cool, despite the fire in the grate, but Linnet rather thought that Lady Caroline barely noticed.

“He called on me yesterday. I hope you won’t think me a fool for giving him my direction, but I knew that he would be leaving England soon, and I didn’t know how much time we would have together.”

Sensing, wisely, that Lady Caroline was in no mood to be lectured, Linnet merely asked, “What did he say to you?”

“A lot of things that didn’t make sense to me. He’s one of those men who speaks in vague terms of their ‘important role’ and their ‘Sacred Oath’ without bothering to enlighten the mere mortals they speak to about what they really mean. I suppose I would find it intolerable in any other man.”

Linnet felt sure that this was true. Lady Caroline had always had a low tolerance for the pretensions of men.

“He said he was embarking on an assignment which held great risk of going wrong. He said he couldn’t say anything more than that, but that, if his worst fears came to pass and he was arrested or— or killed, he wanted me to know that he cared for me. He wanted me to know that he loved me.”

This was the last she was able to say for some time, as tears overtook her again. Linnet, wavering between confusion, irritation, and sympathy, rose, went to her where she leant dramatically against the mantel, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she wept into her handkerchief.

“Come and sit down again.”

Lady Caroline allowed herself to be led back to the couch, beginning to speak again as they moved.

“I don’t honestly know what he could mean, because who would imprison a diplomat? Who would kill a diplomat? But his tone was so grave and he seemed so sure of the risks he was undertaking that I never doubted it, never found it the least strange, until later. You may think it was a cruel prank played at my expense, but there was sincerity in every word that he spoke.”

“I don’t think that at all, but I do think that, if he’s going to frighten you like this, he ought to at least tell you what he’s so worried about.”

“I got the impression that he was bound by solemn oath never to tell.”